


Preservation

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Vignette, mildly dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Connor’s desperate for a favour.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	Preservation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Elijah swirls the whiskey around his cup mostly for dramatic effect, pausing to let the android stew. Theoretically, a machine shouldn’t care how long it has to wait—it should have no concept of patience, because time is irrelevant to something that can’t die. But androids _can_ die, and Elijah built his designs better than that. He can see the genuine _concern_ in Connor’s brown eyes—processors whirring in as much distress as any organic neurons. Anticipations boils in it. Sick though it is, Elijah enjoys watching that, because it’s proof of _life._

He built that life. All these complications were foreseeable, and they all came from his own hand. He downs another long sip before he sets the glass down on his desk. Then he folds his arms across the surface and paraphrases the RK800’s proposal: “So. You want me to build an android body for your dear lieutenant. Something to store his mind in when his body’s died. I won’t lie, it’s an interesting proposition.” And Elijah might be the one person in the world who could actually do it. It’s never been done, but that’s never stopped him before. Yet he can’t help but notice that Connor’s given the suggestion alone—his human nowhere to be found. Most intelligent creatures would leap at the chance to keep their consciousness alive, but from what little Elijah knows of Hank Anderson, he’s a gruff, old school sort of person with no appreciation for the merits of technology. Elijah asks, “What does Lieutenant Anderson think of this?”

There’s a slight twitch in Connor’s face; just enough to give away the answer. His frown is deep as he quietly admits, “It was my idea. But the change won’t need to happen for many years. By then...” Connor trails off. Humans don’t evolve like androids; it’s unlikely Anderson will change his mind. But Connor swallows and thickly adds, “I’m not willing to let him go.” 

Elijah can’t help a chuckle. In a way, it’s thrilling, seeing an android drown in _emotion_ , all but consumed by the sort of love that would keep a human up at night. As an artificial construct, Connor’s ardor is amusing. It’s wild to think that a computer could mourn the loss of a lover, could fear another’s mortality. Elijah drawls, “Do you really depend on him that much?”

Connor stubbornly counters, “All machines rely on their masters.”

“But you don’t think of him as your master, do you?”

Something flickers through Connor’s eyes. Connor doesn’t have to answer for Elijah to know that truth. Besides, as Elijah points out, “Technically, you don’t belong to him anyway. You’re still property of CyberLife.”

Connor’s eyes close. A ripple runs through him like a subtle shiver. Maybe he doesn’t like to be reminded, but he’s the one pretending to still be _logical_. He licks his soft lips and reverts to his first question. “Please, Mr. Kamski.” Those gorgeous eyes flicker back open. “Will you help me?”

There was never any question of that. Elijah’s left the company, but his mind’s never left the shop. He’ll always have new ideas, always be itching to progress. He doesn’t tell Connor of his burning curiosity. He asks only, “What are you willing to do for it?”

Connor answers unequivocally, “Anything.”

Elijah takes another sip of whisky. He leans back in his chair, regarding Connor levelly, already wondering how far Connor’s fallen; does he want a body like his own, young and beautiful, or one exactly as Anderson already is—old and faded. Could he possibly love a human that deeply. Elijah imagines Connor does want a humanoid figure; something that can still make love. Picturing the lieutenant driving into Connor’s pliant body is more enticing than it should be. Connor’s certainly an interesting prototype. 

Elijah rises from his chair and moves closer to inspect that. He makes a slow circle around Connor’s handsome body, eyes traveling from head to toe, boring right through Connor’s slick grey suit. Elijah takes in the sweep of his dark hair, the cut of his broad shoulders, his impressive height and build. There are all sorts of things Elijah could do with such a fascinating creature. 

He reaches out his hand. Connor only hesitates a fraction of a second before taking it. Grinning, Elijah tugs his newest plaything off to start.


End file.
